


Dante's Lessons

by kingmorsluciscaelum



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Aftermath, Blindness, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Death, Co-workers, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Life Debt, Living Together, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Poisoning, Recovery, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Repaying Debt, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22952104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingmorsluciscaelum/pseuds/kingmorsluciscaelum
Summary: When Nero decided to join Dante, there was a lot of lessons that Dante decided to teach him. While he taught Nero a lot of things, there are four he remembers, more than any other lessons.A small story about the time between the end of DMC4 after the Fortuna Incident, to the beginning of DMC5.
Relationships: Dante/Nero (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 79





	1. Instance

The child’s hand is small in the palm of Nero’s devil bringer.

The child hasn’t spoken. They don’t nod or shake their head. Their eyes are wide and sunken into their head, they are covered in dirt and soot, their clothes are filthy, and there is blood soaked on them. Nero walked and walked.

It had been two days since the Fortuna incident, and closer into town they were still finding survivors.

This child, however, must’ve been the last of them, they were coming up empty – oh, they found people, but most of them were not alive. There was no urgency to rescue them. They focused on the living for now.

Nero brushed the hair out of his eyes, and looked down, the kid wobbled a bit, they had walked for a while, but he could see their skinny legs were trembling.

“Come here.” He bent, and picked the kid up. The kid did not try to hold on, so he clutched them with both hands, and walked them further and further, to the destroyed Opera house.

“Sit down.” Nero puts the kid on a broken pew. The pew is snapped in half, and the cushion that one would sit on is propped on its side. Nero lets the kid lean on the cushion. He took his canteen, and rinsed the kids hands, and the kid’s face. No response. The kid did not cry or scream, the kid did not say thanks or spit at him with hatred. Silent.

“Everything okay?” Dante’s voice picks up, and Nero turns to see him.

He’s clearing debris, as they have been for the past two days. Actually, he’s building up the wall a bit. There’s already a bit of tarp on the glass ceiling he shattered, and tarp that they use as doors to the front. Dante has a large chunk of cement balanced on his shoulder with one arm.

“They found another kid out there.” Nero said. “Do we have food?”

“I think so.” Dante mused. “The sisters were giving out last night’s soup for breakfast.”

Nero nodded, “I’ll go get some.”

He had others to check on. There was a lot of people camping in the destroyed opera house. Families, elderly, orphans, all of it. People who loathed Nero and people who had no opinion of him.

He walked pass to the spot behind the altar, where the makeshift kitchen was. They were running on fumes, barely any food, a lot of dead, they were boiling a lot of vegetables to make soup with, cooking rice, and trying to make bread. Nero asked for a bowl of soup, and made note of the kid out there. They trusted him enough to not simply steal the food, so he had no reason to clarify his need. They gave him a bowl of boiled cabbage soup, there was some potatoes and carrots boiled as well. He took the bowl, and walked back outside.

The child did not move. It stared up at the ceiling, where the tarp was slapping against the rooftop as the wind blew.

“It’s probably going to rain tonight.” Nero said, looking up at the tarp, the sky outside was bleary and grey. “It’ll be cold. Do you want a jacket?”

Silence. The kid didn’t even look at him.

“I’ll get you a blanket. Here.” Nero put the bowl of soup down at the child’s side. He walked off, to the other sisters who were working on laundry. It wasn’t a blanket, more like a bunch of the fabric the Order used to make uniforms and church clothes. They wouldn’t need it anymore. Nero took the white sheet of fabric, and folded it, walking back to the new kid.

The kid hadn’t move. They still stared at the ceiling. The soup was untouched.

“Kid?”

They blinked. Nero watched them.

“Come on, kid. You gotta eat.” Nero knelt with the blanket. He wrapped it around the kid’s shoulder, and sat them upright a bit better, leaning them up against the pew that was half embedded in the wall. He knelt down, and picked up the bowl. He grabbed the kid’s washed hands, and put the bowl in them. The kid managed to hold the bowl, but they struggled, so Nero pushed their legs up so their knees were tucked in, and rested the kid’s hands on his thighs, to support his weak arms.

“Good.” Nero said. He didn’t have utensils on him. He carefully blew on the soup, and tried to tip it into the kid’s mouth. The kid took a sip.

“That’s good, that’s good.” Nero said. “Keep going.”

He tried to let go of the bowl, but the child didn’t keep tilting the bowl into their mouth, so instead he kept doing it for them. This went on for a while, until Dante asked Nero for his help, calling him over to the other side of the Opera house.

“Here. I’ll be right back.” Nero put the bowl down, and tucked the kid into the sheet, before he stood up and walked over to Dante.

Like he thought, it was going to rain. Well. It was raining. Dante didn’t have the time to put all of the wall together, but it was miserable enough in there, so they worked on grabbing more tarp, and covering the exposed walls with it.

“Gee, sure wish I didn’t make this damn mess…” Dante huffed. He was getting pelted by rain, as was a lot of the people inside. They huddled around the makeshift kitchen, which was struggling as well to keep its propane fueled fire all lit up.

“You and me both.” Nero huffed.

It takes a bit, Nero slips a few times on the stone building, but he manages to climb up to the roof and cover the large hole in it with tarp, anchoring it down at the top with metal stakes that he hammers to the roof.

“That’s… better.” Dante mused.

“Better than nothing.” Nero agreed.

He wrung out his shirt, smoothing his hair back, and gazing upward. The sky was so dark, it was evening, and it already looked like it was night. This rain would definitely hurt the search parties, still trying to find survivors, it would get darker and colder and wet. The night would be spent shivering.

“What a mess…” Dante murmured again. “What a mess.”

Nero nodded. He didn’t say anything. He looked over to the kid he had led here.

They were holding the bowl of soup.

“Thank god…” Nero huffed, good to know they were eating on their own.

Yet as he approached them, his expression of relief, fell to worry, and then to heartbreak.

Their mouth hung open. The bowl of soup was spilling on their legs, dripping silently as it did. Their sunken in eyes looked glazed over and hollow.

They didn’t blink.

They didn’t move.

They didn’t breathe.

“…” Nero was rendered speechless. He sank to his knees, taking the bowl of soup from the kid’s hands, and reaching out to them. He shook them, and they rocked limp at his movements, he pulled them close, and he already felt it, that coolness, the one that comes when the body is too cold, when it can’t keep itself warm.

He pressed his fingers to the kid’s neck. He pressed hard.

No pulse.

Nero lets out a shaky sigh. He brings the kid into his arms and feels tears run down his face and wet the kid’s dirty hair. He touches his own face, wiping his tears away with the Devil Bringer.

He heard someone approach, and turned around, eyes filled with tears, and saw Dante standing there with a towel around his neck, drying his hair. He gazes at Nero, realizing that he is crying, and then looks at the kid.

“… They gone?”

Dante’s voice has some soft sympathy in him, but his words are still as damning as ever.

“… Yeah.”

Dante knelt down, and picked up the soup, and looked to the kid.

“Take their clothes.”

“What?” Nero snapped.

“Some other kid might need them.” Dante said. “I’ll take this soup back to the sister.”

Nero looked at him in disbelief. He didn’t do anything Dante told him to do, he just watched Dante walk away, like nothing had happened, like the small thing before them wasn’t alive just a few scant moments ago. He just sits there in disbelief, staring at Dante, and when he vanishes into the kitchen, he looks back at the kid.

Nero presses his fingers on the kids eyelids, and holds them there, so they will stay shut. It takes a few seconds. He pulls his hand away.

Dante returned quickly, and knelt down, pulling the kid forward, and laying their body flat on the floor.

“No family?” Dante asked.

“… I don’t know. We found him in a house. He was trapped in a closet. There was someone dead in front of the door.”

“… No family.” Dante concluded. “Name?”

“… Didn’t say.” Nero remarked.

Dante sighed.

“Why are you so calm?” Nero hissed. “The kid just died. You’re already treating them like a… like a _thing_.” He’s too tired to be outraged, but he’s shocked at Dante’s actions.

Dante just sighed. “Nero… There’s some things I got to teach you about life.” Dante huffed. “If you’re serious about joining me. About being a devil hunter… tragedy follows you like a lonely friend. You gotta know how to handle that friend.”

Dante pulled the sheet off the child, and that was when they both saw it, a big pool of blood on the white sheet.

Dante lifted the kids tattered shirt. It was so stained in dirt, you could hardly tell that there was a massive bloodstain. There were two deep large claw marks from the kid’s shoulder, down to their lower back.

“I… I didn’t know…” Nero said weakly. They had bled out. They had been bleeding out for two days, and he had made them walk some of the way back. He felt a horrible sinking feeling in his chest. If he had turned them over to the medical bay first, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

Dante sighed. He carefully covered the kid in the white sheet, allowing them privacy, and pulled the shirt off. It was slashed in the back, but still a mostly put together shirt, and he carefully slid the child’s shoes and shorts off, making sure to cover their body with the sheet while he did so, before wrapping the whole body with the sheet.

“You must’ve been one tough kid.” Dante huffed. “Didn’t say a word. Locked in a room for two days. Someone who loved you was just sitting there dead in front of your eyes, huh? You pulled through…” Dante picked up the bundle, and started walking out of the Opera house and into the rain. “You must’ve been so scared. But you made it all the way here. You met a nice man, you got to feel safe again, you got to know peace, and kindness, and you got to feel warm and safe one last time.” He whispered, and the rain began to batter them both as they stepped outside. Nero followed behind, listening to Dante.

“That’s good.” Dante whispered. “That’s real good… I bet everyone could only dream of life ending like that… safe, and warm.” He sighed, and kept walking, down the path out of town, towards the forest, where the funeral pyres had been burning, and stood strong and bright even in the face of the rain.

The sisters of the pyre stood there with graven faces, and an ominous glow that flickered over them, smoke rises from the rain that hit the fire, and smoke rises with a rancid smell of burning hair and skin. They steeled themselves to the reality of their job. Yet when they saw how very small the body that Dante carried was, they could not help but break that solemn expression and cry at the thought of burning another child in the pyre.

It was against customs of the Order to burn bodies, but with this many, the idea of being able to dig that many graves and to dig them properly was absurd. The maggots would come, and the flies, and the insects, and worst of all, the demons, who thrived in rancid meat, they too would seek them out, and defile the bodies of the dead.

Dante told them this very bluntly. He told them that in times long ago, Sparda led many humans to war with Mundus, he said that after the war, there were too many dead to bury, so Sparda requested they burn the bodies. He said, if Sparda could make an exception then, he could make an exception now.

It eased their minds a bit. Perhaps not enough, but the reality of the situation came the first day, when the insects already posed the threat, and they felt they had no choice but to do as Dante said.

Nero asked Dante what he knew about Sparda, or how he knew so much, enough to remember a tale like that. Dante turned to look at him that day and shrugged.

“I dunno. I made that shit up.”

At time, and yes, even now, Nero contemplated whether or not Dante actually gave a shit about these people. Whether this was all just ‘work’ for him, or if he took this seriously.

Nero stopped, and Dante noticed, so he turned around.

They stood in the forest, in a dark place between the refugees of the Opera house, and the people tending the funeral pyres.

“Do you even care at all?” Nero asked.

“About what?” Dante returned.

“About this? About people? About them all?”

“What makes you think I don’t care?”

“You don’t even blink when dead bodies show up!” Nero huffed. “When someone drops dead, you just carry on like nothing happened!”

“Practice, Nero. It’s call practice.”

“Practice what!?”

“Grieving.” Dante huffed. “I got a lot of practice in. Okay? I’ll grieve on my own time.”

Dante’s voice felt raw. Nero realized it sounded… hurt. Dante felt offended, maybe, that Nero would say such a thing to him.

“There’s a lot of work to do. We can’t cry every time, nothing will get done. Like I told you. If you’re serious about working with me, you need to know the consequences.”

“And what are they!? That every day it’s gonna be like this? That we’ll just get numb to every dead body that comes our way? That every day is gonna be violent? That it’s gonna hurt? That we’re gonna die?”

“Yeah!” Dante snapped. “Yeah it _is_ like that!” He sounded angry, and huffed a few sharp breaths of air. “One day my friends might just die, one day your family will be ripped away from you, so maybe you’ll be too goddamn afraid to make one again! One day my co-workers might die! One day **_I_** might die! And then what Nero? Are you gonna work by yourself? Or are you gonna give up like everyone else did!?”

Nero stared at him.

He didn’t know the answer.

Dante sighed.

“… Sorry.” He said. “You didn’t need to hear that.”

He turns around, and keep walking back towards the Opera house, carrying the kid’s tattered and dirty clothes and shoes.

“… People gave up on you?” Nero asked.

“Almost always.” Dante hummed. “Even Trish and Lady can’t stand working with me forever… Everybody leaves someday.”

“So you don’t want me to work with you? Why don’t you just say that?”

“I _do_ want you to work for me. I want to know you’ll commit. You can’t halfass this. I can’t risk it.”

“… Then you’ll have to teach me.” Nero urged him.

“I’m no teacher.”

“Yes you are.” Nero huffed. “I know you can. Please. You have to teach me…”

Dante paused again. They both stood in the dripping rain, listening to the loud sound of rain pouring on the leaves.

“… Okay.” Dante said. “I’ll teach you. I’ll teach you what I think I know. But I’m gonna teach you my way. Okay? If you can’t handle it, it’s over.”

“… I can handle it.” Nero assured him.

Dante sighed, he turned away and kept walking.

“That’s what they all say.” He sighed.

Nero follows behind him, they say nothing to each other the rest of the day, just silence, and the sound of rain.


	2. Healing

They offered help for a month, but soon eventually people healed, people burned or buried, and people recovered.

And in their recovery, there was anger.

There was nothing left to blame.

Nothing, except, of course, Nero.

For he was one of the last Knights of the Order left alive, and he was also one of the only ones who was near the Savior when everything happened.

Nero was getting threats more and more, and he felt anxious, he felt scared, he felt like panicking.

“Just laugh at them.” Dante said. “They can’t hurt you.”

Yet he’s too afraid to even approach people who despise him. They pelt rocks. They bring torches. They bring knives. They eventually urge him not to stay in the refugee shelters because of ‘discomfort’ from the survivors. They spread rumors.

They say Nero let a child die recently.

They say Dante helped him.

Nero feels like crying, crying with fear and hatred, and rage, so much rage.

Dante brushes it off.

“We’ve overstayed our welcome.”

That’s the end of it. Dante tells Nero to leave. They do. Nero goes back to his studio apartment, the building wasn’t totally unscathed, broken windows and broken walls, but Nero finds his apartment, and gathers all that he has.

His clothes, his books from the mainland about guns and swords, his blanket from his adoptive parents, and his old black blanket.

Nero.

The baby in the black blanket.

He thinks about it, wondering about the blanket, and if he should keep it.

He hates it, at times, for it is where his name comes from, it is where the vile rumors in Fortuna start, for he is the son of a whore, that they believe, that it must be true, and that son of a whore and a monster, for he is a demon now.

Yet, it is the only thing his birth parents ever left him.

He takes it. Just in case.

Nero can’t help being filled with hatred for Fortuna. Dante can see that. When they leave Fortuna, Nero doesn’t even look the direction of the island, he doesn’t even tell anyone goodbye. He just looks forward, from the front of the boat, off towards the land he will soon be in.

“Never been away from home before.” Dante said. “Think you might miss it?”

“… If I do, shoot me.” Nero said. “Because my brain must be going if I miss that crap.”

Dante chuckled. “We’ll see.” He said. “We’ll see.”

* * *

It takes a bit of time, where Dante tries desperately to set Nero up with an apartment of his own, but eventually Nero gets used to sleeping on the couch downstairs in the Devil May Cry office, he's comfortable, so they give up on that venture for now. Nero's clothes are in Dante’s closet upstairs, where Dante’s bedroom is. It’s a very small living space, but to Nero, it has become a completely different world. He can walk outside, and there is a place bustling with people and technology from all over the world. He’s immediately hit with the surprise of it all.

Adjusting takes time, and Nero wondered at first if Dante didn’t open up his shop just because he wanted Nero to be able to adjust. Turns out it seems most days at the shop are just totally quiet. Sometimes Nero wakes up to the sound of billiard balls clacking, and watches Dante play a round of pool by himself. It’s slow and careful, and every day seems to slowly and slowly unravel itself before Nero. He tries all sorts of new foods, including what Dante called a pizza. It wasn’t what Nero would call a pizza, but he still liked it. Yet at times everything just tasted bland. Even the food he liked wasn’t so good after a while.

He refused to miss his home. Finally having distance between him and Fortuna felt good. It felt… liberating. He hated what he endured, and he hated himself most of all for enduring it. He should’ve left that island years ago. He never should have stayed just for his adoptive siblings. He wanted to support them, but it wasn’t worth the pain he’d endured, and he hated himself for it, he hated himself for thinking he was doing good.

He hated himself for a lot of reasons.

He hated how everything was for nothing.

It was nearly a month since he left Fortuna, nearly two months since the Fortuna Incident, and he was alone in Dante’s shop as Dante was out meeting Trish about something.

He started to cry.

Why he was crying, he didn’t really know, he didn’t miss Fortuna, he didn’t grieve for them, he didn’t even like them. He didn’t miss Dante, he was there merely three hours ago, so why was he crying? What was the point? Why was he sad?

He doesn’t know when he started, or when he stopped, since he fell asleep right after.

He felt something warm on him when he wakes up, and noticed Dante’s coat laying on his chest.

Dante is sitting at his desk, writing some note on a yellow legal pad, the Rebellion is leaning on the side of the desk.

“You ready?” Dante asked, capping the pen, and picking up his sword as he rose from the desk.

“… Ready for what?”

“For the first lesson.”

* * *

They're standing around outside the shop, Nero is all dressed for combat, his coat is on, his gun is loaded, and his belts are in order. Dante on the other hand, doesn't bring his guns, just his sword, and dresses much more casually than he usually does.

“It’s all right to decompress and all.” Dante says as they load up his motorcycle. “It’s important, probably, for your system. You gotta let go of the last time, and get ready for the next one.”

“I don’t think I can get ready.” Nero admitted.

“Sure you can. You prepared yourself this afternoon.”

“How?”

“By crying.”

_So he could tell, huh?_

Nero rolled his eyes.

“And what exactly did that prepare me for?” Nero asked, setting the new blade that Dante had gotten him into the sheathe on his back.

“Letting go.” Dante replied.

Nero didn’t felt like he let go. More than anything he felt like he was clinging tighter, squeezing to that semblance of the past, debating if it was that bad or not. His tears came from his confusion and his anger. Still, Dante isn’t about explaining himself, so Nero just lets it go, and climbs on behind him, sliding into the seat, and wrapping his arms under Dante’s chest, squeezing onto him.

“Feels like you’ve done this before.” Dante remarked.

“I rode horses in Fortuna.”

“Ah, well, think of this as a real fast, loud horse.” Dante replied.

It was nothing like a horse.

Nero was squeezing so hard he was digging his claws into Dante’s chest. He didn’t dare ask Dante to slow down, but he can feel him slowing the bike down when Nero squeezes so hard his claw rips through Dante’s shirt. The wind howls inside the helmet, he feels the sword slapping against his back, and he buries his face in Dante’s neck, and just focuses on breathing. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Dante, far from it, he’s just not exactly excited about his speed and the way he drives.

He squeezes so tight and shuts his eyes so hard that when he opens them he has no idea where they are.

There on a winding road in a forest, as Dante slows down to a near halt. There’s piles of autumn leaves on the road and running them over they fly into the air and float back down limply. The trees are wide apart, and a type that Nero has never seen before. As Dante gets closer to the highest point of this winding hillside, he sees a vantage point that looks down upon the city below.

It was so busy, so wide and large, there were airplanes flying in the distance – a rarity in Fortuna, visitors only came by boat.

He couldn’t see the ocean, even from this high spot above the city, and it made him feel so… small. Fortuna was a small place, there was no spot he could be that he couldn’t eventually just go to the ocean. Such a small place, trapped there all by himself at times. The world felt much smaller, he felt much bigger. Now at times he shrinks in the face of how much there is, and he knows this is not how he thought he’d be. He wants to dive into everything, invest every moment into learning more, and doing more, but all he can do is lay there. All he can do is watch that busy city pass him by. Waiting. Watching. Suffocating.

Dante walks out to the edge of the hillside and sits down on the grass.

“What are we doing?” Nero asked.

“Waiting.” Dante replied.

“For what?” Nero asked.

Dante smiled. “You’ll see.”

Nero sighed, and sat down in the grass. There were small aster flowers around them in the field. The motorcycle was propped up by the road, but it seemed nobody came out here, and Dante wasn’t worried about it getting stolen for a number of reasons. Nero stared out at the distance, and started plucking up the aster flowers, laying it on the hem of his pants while they sat there.

Dante laid back on the ground, staring up at the sky, and Nero glanced at him, and kept doing what he was doing until he’d filled the whole hem on the thigh of his pants with flowers.

Silence.

The wind blows through the trees.

Ever so often there’s the sound of an airplane over head.

The evening air is cool and pleasant, and the light fades gently, the sun sets over the city and stretches a long shadow. Blue fades to gold, and pink, and red, and purple, and soon it is indigo, and the sun is gone from sight. Just long rays stretching across the sky for a few precious moments, and the rays fade, and the stars fill in.

Nero hadn’t seen the stars since he came to the city. Fortuna was not lit up as much, he could always see the stars. This forest however, was incredibly dark. He couldn’t even see the motorcycle from where they sat anymore. There was no lights. Nero wasn’t afraid, in Fortuna, with the lack of technology, often going out at night meant being in pitch black. Not to mention, even in pitch black, there was nothing that could hide in there that Nero would fear.

Nero learned that from Dante. Fighting him had built that confidence in him. He could fight anything. He could win. He wasn’t afraid.

It seemed like all of a sudden the city was full of lights, although at the same time, it seemed it was always that way. Bright red lights that slowly flickered on tops of skyscrapers to warn the oncoming airplanes. Every building was lit up with light, there were streams of red lights and white lights that Nero recognized as cars on the highway.

Another airplane flies overhead, blinking blue and red lights, Nero stares at it, watching it fly towards the city and loses it in the dizzying lights.

“… You know, I have a pilot’s license.”

Nero glanced at Dante as he broke the silence.

“Really?” He asked.

“Well.” Dante shrugged. “I used to.”

“What happened?”

“It expired.”

“Oh.” Nero thought it’d be more exciting than that.

“Well… also I might have crashed one or ten planes.”

“Crashed!? What about all the people onboard?”

“Onboard?” Dante scoffed. “No, nobody was onboard. Well, except me.”

“… I thought those things were huge.” Nero remarked.

“Yeah, not the ones I drove though. They’re small. Two person planes. Trish rode with me once.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Dante nodded. “It was… interesting.”

“When did that happen?”

Dante scoffed. “I dunno… feels like a lifetime or two ago.”

They quiet down a bit, only for a moment, watching the city.

“Can you teach me how?” Nero asked.

Dante laughed. “Slow down, little devil, you haven’t even learned how to drive a car.”

“Yeah, but that’ll be easy.” Nero replied. “… I want to learn how to fly.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I always wanted to.” Nero admits. “We didn’t have airplanes, but there’s a lot of statues of angels in Fortuna. With feathered wings. I guess I wanted to fly like that… I guess it was childish.”

A flash of light makes Nero startle. He glanced over to Dante, who was bright red, covered in scales, and carefully he unwrapped his wings under his arms, and spread them, leathery and large. They looked warm and red. He feels like he wants to touch those wings, but he doesn’t move, just staring at them.

“Not that childish.” Dante’s voice is so rough in that form. Demonic. It sounds unusual.

In a second it’s gone, and Nero adjusts to the darkness that filters back into his vision.

“How do you do that?” Nero asked.

“Don’t know how to explain it.” Dante looked over his hand as if he was still in his Devil Trigger mode. “It’s just something you… feel.”

Nero looked down at his right arm, it didn’t glow anymore around Dante, it slowly ebbed away, as if his body instinctively learned that Dante was safe, that Dante would bring no harm.

He touched along the scaly texture of it. Something you feel. He wish he understood this arm, but it never went away. He had started to get used to it, he had no choice but to adapt, but around Dante, it felt… safe, there was a warmth that started in his arm, and spread through his whole body, whenever Dante was close by. Nero assumed it was that ‘echo of their blood’ that Dante talked about. Something about Sparda’s blood, that made them call out like that.

He wonders if Dante feels it too. That warmth.

Before he can think about it, a yellow light flares up from inside the forest. Two yellow lights. Dante smiles and stands up.

“Well, looks like my guy is finally here.”

Nero perked up. This must be the job that they were waiting for. He wondered why Dante brought him out here so early if it was just to wait. He stayed back, and watched as the car pulled up. Nero focused his eyes, and furrowed his brow at what he was seeing.

It was a maroon car, ugly and old, but interesting nonetheless, to Nero who was unfamiliar with cars, it simply looked well used. It has a sticker on the side, although he can’t read it, there’s also a light on the top of the car, in the shape of a triangle, with red circles on it.

“Uh, Mr. Eva?” The man steps out of the car, carrying a flat box.

“That’s me.” Dante perked up.

The man handed over the box, and Dante handed over some dollar bills. Nero counted them, or tried to, he was still figuring out how currency worked in this country, and how much things cost and what equaled what amount.

“Why’d you call us all the way out here?” The delivery man asked. “I was told to follow the road until I saw a motorcycle, but usually you’re in town, aren’t you?”

Dante shrugged. “Just wanted to see if you could.” He admitted.

The driver shrugged. “All right, well, it’s on you.”

“Oh yeah.” The driver said, sliding back in his car. “Sorry about the ice cream, yeah? It’s a little melty.”

Dante turned over a container in his hand, and shrugged. “What can you do?” He said.

Nero could see that it must’ve cost Dante extra to deliver what was most likely a pizza this far out of town. He was wondering exactly why he decided to do that, but he didn’t bother.

“We came out all this way to order pizza?”

“No.” Dante replied. “We came out all this way to eat it too. Duh.”

Dante walked him back to where they had been sitting, and sits a lot closer to Nero, practically shoulder to shoulder.

He flips open the box. It’s half pepperoni, and half some sort of abomination of toppings that Dante liked. Bell peppers, onions, mushrooms, red onions, sausage, basil, tomato, zucchini – a million other things that Nero was sure would leave him confused.

“I remember you said you preferred the simple one.” Dante said. He pulled out a long stretch of that cheesy bread, and handed Nero the slice. Dante was already eating his own slice.

“You can’t be serious.” Nero huffed.

“I am.” Dante said, voice muffled with a mouthful of pizza. “It’s pepperoni.”

“I though we were going to work today. I thought you were going to teach me!”

“I am teaching you!” Dante said in a muffled way before he cleared his throat and swallowed his food. “This is the first lesson.”

“Eat pizza?” Nero huffed.

“Heal.” Dante said.

Nero looked at him incredulously.

“This pizza is supposed to heal me?”

“ _No_ … Well, yeah, but also no.” Dante concluded. “It sure can’t hurt you.”

Nero scoffed. Dante also set down a box of spicy chicken wings.

“I remembered you liked the extra spicy one.” Dante set the box by him. He also had a to-go tub full of ice cream and strawberry compote. Nero knew that was his ‘strawberry sundae’ that Dante apparently ate pretty often.

“Yeah, a real healthy spread you got here.” Nero huffed. “So the first lesson is I’ll heal by having a picnic with you in a park at night?”

“It could’ve been during the day.” Dante replied. “But then it would’ve been hot, and the ice cream would melt.” He cracks open the sundae container, and it seemed it was melted anyway. That did nothing to stop him, he takes a full bite of it, and then realizing that wasn’t very effective, just drinks the thing. Nero rolled his eyes once again.

“Look, if you wanted to fuck with me, you can just get it over with. I’ve had enough people fuck with me when I was an Order Knight.”

Dante huffed.

“Will you just eat your food?”

“Can you tell me why you’re fucking with me?”

“Because you’re still upset.” Dante replied, and leaned back, resting his back on the natural curve of the steep hill they laid on. He drank more of his bizarre strawberry ice cream mixture, and looked down at the city as he finished his slice.

“Look. I don’t know what you’re thinking about. Nobody does. But I know what you’re feeling. You’re feeling like you should be over it by now. That you’re done with that shit. Fortuna is a thing of the past right?”

Nero gazed at him. He didn’t answer Dante’s question, but he didn’t seem to be looking for an answer.

“Well. That’s what you think makes sense. But you don’t feel that way. You’re angry. You’re frustrated. You’re screaming in your sleep so loud you wake up your boss who lives upstairs. You’re crying in the shower so loud that your boss who lives upstairs also hears that. You cry when I’m gone. You’re screaming for your brother, but he’s dead, you’re thinking about your sister, but she’s not here. You don’t go outside, and it’s not cause you’re afraid or some shit, you’re just exhausted. You don’t know what to do. You’re mad. You’re tired. You want to go home; but you don’t got a home anymore. So you don’t know where you want to go… so you just… sit there. Waiting while the world passes you by. Yeah?”

Nero stared at Dante, but Dante just kept eating in front of him. He felt uncomfortable, to have been studied so closely. He felt embarrassed, to know Dante could hear him, to know he had been bothering Dante with his actions the past month or so. He turns his head away, his whole face is red as he thinks on how embarrassing it is to know that Dante could hear him crying. God, why was he such a mess?

“… So you came out here to embarrass me?” Nero huffed, feeling tears prick his eyes from the fact that he was embarrassed anyway.

“No.” Dante said. “I don’t see any point in embarrassing you.”

“If you knew for so long why didn’t you say something?” Nero wiped his face so Dante didn’t see those shameful hot tears running down his reddened face.

“Because it’s natural.”

“There’s nothing natural about the way I feel. There’s nothing natural about any of this.”

Dante chuckled. “Yeah… that’s what I thought too.” He sighed. “The good news is, I was wrong. And so are you.”

Nero looked at him only confused, and Dante shut the pizza box to protect it from the cold, and looked over to Nero.

“I know I said I don’t know what you’re thinking… but I’ve been in the boat you’re in.” Dante said. “I know what it feels like to lose someone. Even worse? I know what it’s like to feel like you killed them.”

Nero’s mind goes to Credo, and it doesn’t pull away.

“And I know, worst of all, what it feels like to not have someone pick you up when you need them to… Granted, I did that to myself. I imagine you’d end up doing it to yourself as well.”

“Do what to myself?”

“Isolate yourself. Put yourself out of commission.” Dante sighed. “I’ll tell you something.”

Dante straightened his back out, and Nero knew that meant he’d be rambling for a bit, so Nero sank back on the grass, laying on the hillside.

“A while back… I hurt someone that was dear to me. I hurt someone I loved. And I thought… everything I had done with my life, up until that point… what did I do it for? For it to all end that way? Was I proud of what I did? What I became? At the time, I was elated, because in the end, I did something I had set out to do all my life. I got justice for my mom.”

He goes silent then, his expression twists on his face for only a moment, and Nero can see it’s painful, but Dante pushes it back.

“I thought… what’s the point? All my life… I wanted this. I did it. So? It didn’t bring my mom back. It wouldn’t give me my family. It took them away from me…” Dante is squeezing his fist on the side, digging his fingers in the grass and plucking the blades of grass out of the dirt.

“So… I kind of… stopped working for a while. That went poorly. I needed to eat and a place to live. So I worked. I did my work, went in, went out, felt nothing. I stopped caring. I would flip a coin to decide if I would bother with anything. Then I just made sure the coin would always land heads. So I was just doing every job that came my way… I hated it. I hated every second of it. I just… didn’t want to be here anymore. I would jump out of buildings and think, ‘Maybe I wont catch myself when I land.’ I wouldn’t pay anyone the time of day. After this one mission, a portal to hell opened up and I just… jumped in! I didn’t even care what would happen. I didn’t go in with any intention of coming back home.”

Nero stares at him. It’s strange, from Dante of all people, to hear such open and raw emotions, to hear something so honest and dire. He feels sick, his stomach twists, not because he hates it, but because he doesn’t know what to say.

“Sometimes. I think… I still feel that way.” Dante admitted. He looked at Nero, noticing his discomfort. “I’m glad though.” He smiled very slight. “I’m really glad I didn’t follow through with those thoughts. I pulled through. Kept looking for something to… to keep me going. I wasn't sure I'd ever find it. Then... all of sudden. I did. Just like that. I found someone. So I kept going.”

Dante doesn't say who it is. Nero doesn't ask, he doesn't have any intention of keeping his hopes up.

"I'm glad." He said. "I'm glad I didn't give up. Or I never would've met that person."

Nero again tries to not keep his hopes up, but he can't help thinking he knows who Dante is talking about. It makes him feel a bit lighter, it makes his insides feel warm again, the way his Devil Bringer does.

“So.” Dante said. “That’s why we haven’t trained yet. I have no idea how long it’ll take. But I’m not going to rush you. I’m not gonna force you. Because it’s miserable. And it’s hard work. You need to be ready for that.” Dante flipped open the pizza box again. “You need to be ready to take care of yourself, and get stronger, and if you want to do that, if you want to get over Fortuna, and all the shit you just went through, then it starts –”

Dante offer him the slice of pizza again.

“By healing.”

Nero looked down at the pizza, he looked up at the heavens and all the stars and sighed deeply, and then he finally took the slice.

“It’s not always going to be this mushy heart to heart shit, right?” Nero asked.

“If you’re lucky, never again.” Dante replied. “Cause the moment you start feeling better – I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Nero scoffed. He started to eat, taking a spoonful of Dante’s ice cream as well, despite the Devil Hunter’s half-assed protest. Nero ate, and this time, it tasted a little bit better than usual.


	3. Empathize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lesson Number Two: Empathize

Nero crashed through not one, but two walls of solid wood, feeling the heavy oak splinter and snap under the force, hard enough for him to scream out in pain, and then in irritation. He sunk back on the building he’d just now destroyed with his whole body and rubbed the back of his sore head.

“What the _fuck_ , Dante!?” He snapped.

“What did I say? Watch your language! It’s not professional.”

He was balanced on the rafters inside the large and now destroyed church. It was filled with cobwebs and collecting dust, clearly people hadn’t been using the place in years. More importantly however, was its recent tenants that were supposedly haunting the abandoned church.

First there were sightings of glowing orbs inside the broken windows. At first just a rumor of the school children who went out at night. Soon people were seeing the lights inside the chapel. There was a person standing in the window, waving at those who passed by, a person with no head, and a pure eggshell white body. When the police finally came to inspect, they found all sorts of crazy things. Runes on the walls, carved by what seemed to be a knife, chicken carcasses, they seemed to be gnawed on by a human, the markings indicated such. Blood on the walls, claw marks on the floors, animal furs and bones, and slowly, but surely, one person went missing, then another, then another.

It wasn’t until the human bones showed up in the church did Dante finally receive a call.

“Fuck…” Nero hissed, and started to sit back up. The rickety old church was falling apart. His Devil Bringer glowed around the runes that lit the walls. He flexed his glowing arm, and he ran his fingers through his hair.

Nero’s hair was cut short now, his muscles felt tighter, his clothes were more modern, he was a bit taller, and it had been a full year and two weeks since the Fortuna incident.

Nero had originally tried to keep his hair long, but it kept getting in his eyes when he trained with Dante – how Dante kept his own hair this long, he didn’t know. Still, he needed to see, so he slicked his hair back often, but he noticed Dante really seemed to dislike that. He often said ‘why don’t you just cut it if it’s in your way?’ and would ruffle Nero’s hair undone. After long enough, when Nero got his first paycheck from doing work with Dante, he went out and got some new clothes, and a new haircut.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d actually do it!”

He remembered Dante’s reaction pretty well, at first it was underwhelming, but then Dante rubbed his now short hair with his fingers and grinned saying.

“It’s cute!”

He was always very handsy, Nero noticed, so it didn’t bother him, in fact, the comment made him feel good.

He was feeling anything but good right now.

Dante was not exactly a teacher. They had many lessons, but he was a ‘watch and learn’ sort of teach, and Nero couldn’t exactly always see what the hell Dante was doing, so he wasn’t learning much at first.

Now? He kept up with him pretty considerably. It made him a little proud. So Dante always knew when it came time to knock him down a peg.

“I’m gonna kick your ass.” Nero hissed.

“I’d like to see you try.” Dante said. “What’s the score again? A thousand to six?”

Nero sneered at him. He launched the new Red Queen at Dante, and started to open fire with Blue Rose.

Dante dodged the sword, and immediately got shot in the shoulder with Blue Rose’s bullet.

“Ow. Damn it. You put your Devil Breaker into that!”

Back when the Savior had destroyed Fortuna over a year ago, Nero did learn how to wrap his bullets in Demonic force, it cut just a bit deeper. Nero smirked.

He stopped smirking when Dante grabbed the Red Queen sword.

“How does this thing work anyway?”

“Don’t you dare break it again you bastard!”

“Hey! That was an accident! How many times do I gotta say that!?”

Dante revved the Red Queen, listening to her purr, and breathing in that exhaust. He had to admit, he enjoyed the smell of gasoline in a strange way, in motorcycles and weapons alike.

Nero started firing at him, and Dante dodged before trying to drop himself down on Nero, the Red Queen aimed at him.

“Oh hell no!” Nero huffed, he dodged, watching Dante smash through the floor of the chapel, and Nero shot him again in the leg. He knows they shouldn’t get too aggressive, but all the time they tested that limit. Dante was practically bullet proof anyway. Even when Nero shot him, he didn’t say anything but—

“Hey! Watch the coat!”

“This coat isn’t even that good anyway!” Nero scoffed. “Your last one was better.”

“Oh yeah, gee, I wonder where it went?”

Nero rolled his eyes. Well, he knew the answer, it was in his bed, in his new apartment. He kept it when Dante gave it to him, but he hardly wore it anymore. He didn’t want it to get destroyed, so he wore it at home, or kept in in bed to sleep under. Less nightmares that way. In a sense, he felt safer, and Dante knew Nero couldn’t part with it.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t tease him about it.

“Come on Nero.” Dante ripped the Red Queen out of the ground, and tossed it to Nero. “You’re getting soft.”

Nero fired again, and Dante dashed to the left, nearly throwing himself into the altar in the front.

Dante chuckled. Nero was shaking some wood chips off himself and he noticed the big hole in the wall they’d made. He can’t help thinking back to their first fight together when they get into it like this. He watches bullets fly past his head, and slams the Rebellion blade through them, slashing them in half.

They go at it for a while, even breaking the door off the hinges, shattering another window, and Dante even punches a hole through the floor.

The place was a mess before Nero felt a wave pulse through his body, from his back and racing to the front of his body. His Devil Bringer glowed.

Something behind him…

Dante stopped, noticing the presence as well, and the smile on his face dropped to a serious expression, brows furrowed, Rebellion raised.

_What have you done to my home?_

Nero tried not to shudder. He heard that voice, whispering and hissing like a snake, coming from everywhere, from under him, from in the windows, from behind the pews, from up in the rafters. The sound of the voice seemed to come from everything at once. It sounded out each word individually, like it perhaps didn’t understand the language.

“Your home?” Dante said. “Did you build it?” He scoffed. “Where are you? Come out and face me.”

_I am here._

Another pulse, this time conjuring a tense wave of nausea in Nero’s stomach. He smelt some sickening thing, something of rotten blood, and rancid flesh and fetor. Dante started to walk down the aisle of the church, towards the front door.

Nero followed, gun at the ready, taking Red Queen in his other hand.

At the bottom of the steps, there was a statue, pale white, like described, a hand held up, like it was waving.

It had no head.

From the stump of where a neck should be, there is a dark red ring forming.

As it does, when they approach, blood pours out of the stump.

The stench is unbearable.

Even Dante wrinkles his nose and waves his hand in front of his face.

“Why are you all so disgusting, huh?” Dante huffed.

_Leave. My. Home._

The demon spoke these words as clearly as it could with its hissing snake-like voice. Again the voice doesn’t come from the statue, it comes from everywhere around them. Nero noticed it had a long robe carved into it’s statue, as well as two large angel wings, carved into the stone. Blood stains the white statue a thick and ugly dark brown-red.

“This isn’t your home, sweet cheeks.” Dante replied. “And your little magic trick isn’t that impressive.”

The statue turns, a 90 degree angle, and slowly the limbs come alive, as it slowly lays their stony hands down at their side.

Nero knew that this was the plan all along.

“This demon is strong, Nero. I can feel it. I can recognize this… from something I fought before.”

Dante told him this when they first entered the church. Dante knew something was very off long before they even stepped inside. He seemed… angry. Yet he wiped that away quickly. He urged Nero to fight with him, that in doing so, they would coax the demon out of hiding. Nothing attracts demons more than the allure of other demon’s fighting each other.

He supposed Dante was right. He did wish that Dante didn’t rough him up so much to get to this point, but he supposed if they didn’t fight that hard, the demon wouldn’t notice them, or they wouldn’t come out of hiding.

“So what?” Dante said. “You gonna put on a sheet and start spooking the neighborhood kids? You don’t look so tough. Why should I do what you tell me to do? Why don’t you fight me for it?”

Watching the white stone statue move so slowly, dripping with blood from the stump of where a head should be, Nero is reminded of the Savior.

For Dante, however, he’s reminded of another demon that took form in the body of a white stone statue.

The statue summoned a bright white beam of light that rained down from above. Dante dodged, and the demon threw itself upon Dante, launching it’s heavy stone body into the church, and screeching a bizarre and blood curdling sound.

Dante laughed in its face.

“Is that it?” Dante asked. “Consider yourself evicted!”

He slams the statue through the side wall of the entrance room, and out into the right side of the church. Dante follows through the hole in the wall, sword on his shoulder.

To the right of the church is a cemetery. There’s statues there as well, but their target is pretty easy to see amongst them. The creature has now stretched it’s massive angel wings, and revealed what it actually is made of. Not just stone, but each feather was a strange white needle-like feather. It flapped its massive wings, and then slammed them down, ejecting the needle blades, and firing them at Dante.

Dante dodged some, slashed some, and some he took right to the hip and stomach.

“What the hell was that?” Dante huffed. “Is that all you got?”

The demon screeched again, reading new needle blades to fire under its massive stony wings.

_It IS you… Son of Sparda…_

“Yeah. I thought you felt familiar. Recognize me?” Dante hissed.

_I am… **not** … your enemy._

Dante furrowed his brow, and Nero watched him as he suddenly stood back, sword in the grass.

“Oh yeah? What makes you think that? Hmm? I know that stench anywhere. You stink of that disgusting little nobody.”

Who was he talking about? Nero didn’t dare to ask now, he just watched, trying to learn. He’d never seen Dante talk with a demon like this, in a way that they’d perhaps manage to talk their differences out.

_I am **his** … no longer… I am not… my creators… **pet**._

Dante once again seems affected by this information. He’s still furrow browed, he looks angry and concerned, and unsure, he stays ever on guard with the creature, but he does not fight it.

“So you’re another creation, huh?”

_Yes._

“Then give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you!” Dante launched forward through the graveyard, smashing through a cross on accident, and stepping off the next stone to launch himself into an attack.

He slashed the creature open, from shoulder to across it’s broad torso, down to the leg.

Dante didn’t do it unscathed. Suddenly the needle blades in the demon’s wings turned black, and fired rapidly at Dante. He dodged some, but took a lot to his back and a couple in his arm.

Dante grabs some of them to rip them out of his arm. He reaches for his back and then… stumbles… and slows.

His eyes open wide, his pupils dilate, his hand is trembling.

Blood rushes from his mouth.

“What the—” He coughed up blood, and spat it at the grass. His blood was black. “What did you… what did…”

In the time he begins to slow, the angelic devil sped up, grabbing Dante, and throwing him to the side. He lands on a spear of another bronze statue, a saint holding up a long spear and holding a shield with her other arm, and it lances him through his chest.

Nero looked on in shock.

Dante slid down the bronze statue spear, and leaned limply on the shield. Blood still rushed out of his mouth. His eyes are open, and lifeless.

“No!” Nero shouted, and jumped out of the church, racing up to the demon. He slashed his sword, and cut into the demon. Those black needles launch at him, but not nearly as many, and Nero slashes them away with the Yamato.

The demon suddenly freezes, and flies back, shying away from Nero.

_Dark Knight…_

“… Huh?” Nero looks at the demon. It bows its body awkwardly at him, no head to bow all the way. It even lowers its wings.

_You are free as well…_

_You stand beside the other Son again._

_Tell him I am no enemy._

Nero feels nothing but a headache, this damn thing’s voice is nightmarish, the screeching and crying is more than enough to give him the creeps. He doesn’t think, he merely moves forward, leaving Red Queen behind, and stabbing with the Yamato at the creature.

“Nero! Wait!”

Dante’s voice is so strained, it’s so raw with anger too. He’s pulling himself off that spear, hand extended, trembling as it does. Nero stared at him, dumbfounded, and seeing that there was some blackish hue on his face.

Dante slides off, falling to the ground. Nero rushed over, grabbing him, and holding him upright.

He sees now, some horrible pattern spreading on Dante’s face. It looks pitch black, and like a vein, splitting and spreading around under his skin.

“What did they do to you?” Nero whispered.

He turned around, letting Dante go. “What have you done to him!?”

Nero slashed at the statue, and sliced it’s legs off. The demon screams, howling like a banshee at the pain. Nero slashes again, and again.

“Nero!”

Dante’s voice is violent in his anger. Nero freezes, genuinely afraid of Dante’s tone. The demon before him is screeching as well, once again, their blades fall out of their stone wings, and they are barren and helpless. Nero felt that blood urge rising inside him again.

“You’ll pay for what you did!” Nero shouted. He rose his hand to slam down into the demon.

He’s immediately knocked off his feet by Dante, tackling him to the ground.

“Enough!” Dante snapped. “Stop this!”

Nero finally laid on his side in the grass, feeling a sharp pain of landing on the hard cement gravestone.

The creature had no legs, and crawled, bleeding, more blades falling from its wings.

Dante limped over, grabbing the needles that were about as big as a dagger and about a foot long, and ripped a few of them out of his back. He stumbled, clearly affected by something, and knelt down before the creature.

“You escaped? You escaped Mallet Island?”

The creature was in too much pain to respond.

Dante panted, and put his hand in his pocket, producing a vial of water.

He uncapped it, and Nero recognized it as a vial of Holy Water.

_No!_

The creature finally shouted, and lifted its one hand. Nero realized he’d slashed off the other hand. He hadn’t realized how much damage he’d done to it.

_Don’t kill me… don’t… send me back there… please…_

“You can’t stay here.” Dante hissed. “You’ve killed people. You can’t do that. You can’t stay in this world.”

_I will return… to my creator._

“No, no you won’t.” Dante said. He poured out the Holy Water on his hand, and watched it burn his skin. Dante winced, but it was a good sign, seemed that Priest indeed was not a liar.

_Please! I don’t want to return to him!_

“You won’t!” Dante snapped. “This water is—” He covered his stomach, suddenly letting out a groan, and feeling his stomach twist up inside. Whatever was inside Dante, it was taking hold of him, and fast. “Consecrated… for – ah!” Dante grit his teeth, and raised his shaking hand. “For exorcism!”

“You won’t—you won’t return… to the level of hell he’s at… I promise. Your creator was sealed away. You’ll be safe.”

The creature had no eyes to look in to, yet the body language it gave seemed to soften, it relaxed, it laid on the grass.

Dante poured the Holy Water on the creature, and the statue spasmed, screeched, and flailed, but it did not fight back, it thrashed and thrashed and soon it burned, hissing and rushing out black steam, and in its screaming, it seemed to accept its fate, perhaps content with this ending, no matter how violent it was.

The demon died, finally ceasing their death throes after all the agony. The statue that remained crumbled into dust. Droplets of blood began to harden and crystalize into orbs. Nero watched, and panted hard.

“What was that about?” Nero asked.

Dante didn’t respond.

“Dante? What the fuck was that? What was it—Dante? Dante!”

Dante fell over in a slump, and Nero raced to catch him. He noticed the black veins under his skin and spread more and more, and urgently Nero lifted Dante in his arms, holding him close, and speaking to him.

“Dante, listen to me! Can you hear me?”

Nothing. Dante’s eyes look so hazy. Nero firmly pushes his fingers into Dante’s pulse.

He feels it beat. One… two.

It’s so weak, and slow.

He races with the larger man in his arms, escaping the graveyard, and rushing him to the nearest road near the church.

In some haze of mist that surrounds Dante’s head, Dante must hear something, because soon it fades, and Dante’s slurred voice responds.

“You’re welcome…” He stuttered.

Nero furrowed his brow, and pushed onward, carrying Dante in his arms through the grassy field, and towards the direction of town.

* * *

Dante woke up to darkness.

He has a blanket on his chest, and a jacket lain on top of it, covering his hands. Dante slowly pulls the jacket towards his face, and breathes it in. It smells like Nero. It tells him he’s safe.

… Where was he?

It felt so bizarre – but not unusual – to wake up in total darkness.

He hears some buzzing in his ear. His vision is streaks of black and blue, and he wonders what on earth he’s looking at.

A sudden flash of yellow as well. No. Flaxen. Pale gold. Blonde.

Hair.

“… M-mom…?” Dante whispered. It’s hardly a voice at all. Nearly empty of words.

“Wow. You can talk.” Trish’s voice came through. “Stay put. And shut your eyes, you’ll make yourself sick.”

Dante blinked a few times. He shut his eyes, and sighed, it did make him feel a bit better.

“How long has he been out, Nero?”

“Uh… since Saturday.”

Dante hears Nero’s voice, and he sighed, and relaxed. Yes. He remembered. Trish and Nero. They were his friends. This place, the smell, it must’ve been his office. He was home. Safe.

“So two days ago?” Trish asked.

“Yeah.” Nero explained. “I had to get him to the hospital but they couldn’t diagnose him or help him… I don’t know why I thought they could… I just panicked. I drove him home after that. He’s been here ever since.”

“Is that so… you said he asked for me?”

“Yeah. He said… to… call Trish, she’s in Mallet Island? But Lady said you were in the next town over…”

“Ah… he’s uh… well, he’s not feeling too good. I can guarantee you that.”

“What happened to him? Can you tell?”

“Oh yeah. I can tell.” Trish said. “He’s been poisoned. It’s slow acting. It’s used to torture demons… especially back on Mallet Island.”

“So you _were_ there?”

“… For a time.” She hesitates on her words.

“They torture demons in Mallet Island?”

“No, no ‘they’, just the one demon does it. Only the one.”

“The one? It’s a demon doing the torturing?”

“Yeah… he likes to torture his underlings. I’m familiar with this drug. It was used on Nel—”

“Mhm!”

Dante immediately made a noise to distract them both. Although he couldn’t see, he heard where Trish’s voice came from, and Dante glanced his blinded, pitch-black eyes towards her, and glared.

Trish stared back at him. She saw that expression before.

A scoff.

“Right.” She murmured. “You two are the same.”

She thinks about how the other one never liked hearing Dante get brought up either, so she supposed the reverse would be the same.

“What?” Nero asked.

“Forget it.” Trish said. “Just know that this poison is slow acting, and on purpose. It’s slow for demons at least. If Dante was a full blown human like he wishes he was, he’d probably be dead by now.”

“So what’s going to happen?” Nero asked.

“I… don’t really know. Most demons that ingest that poison in any way… they either don’t live very long, or they never stop getting it injected into themselves. Hard to believe one of them stole some of it. Probably thought it would protect them… I guess it did. Oh well. What a mess.”

Trish stepped away from Dante’s desk, and walked over to him. She put her cool hand on his face, and felt him, hot, practically burning, and her cold fingers are a small blessing for Dante. He shuts his eyes and sighs.

“It makes the victim unusually honest at times, and obedient to a fault, but they’re very conscious of that fact, Nero. It’ll make him blind, unable to walk, maybe a little unable to use his arms. A full proper dose makes them unable to control their entire body, too much, and they pass out, they lose control for weeks. This dose must’ve been massive for someone like Dante to lose control… It must be wearing off now though. Now… I’ve never seen any demon recover from it full, but… if there was anyone who could resist the affects, it’s a Son of Sparda.”

“So he has a chance?” Nero asked.

“When doesn’t he?” Trish replied.

“Right…” Nero shook his head, as if he wondered why he ever worried about it.

“Just wait a week or two, it’ll be out of his system, hopefully. In the meantime, I guess you better take care of him. He’ll need to be babysat for a while, and I’m busy.”

“I have enough to get by with no work for a week or two.” Nero concluded to her. “Thanks Trish. I appreciate it. I don’t feel much better… but at least I know what I’m working with.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Dante could hear Trish’s heels clacking along the hardwood floor. The creaky door swings open, a rush of cold air comes in, and the door slams shut, shaking the wall slightly.

He hears Nero walking over, and the sound of the floorboards creaking as he kneels down in front of Dante.

“How are you feeling? Can you talk much? Trish said it’s normal if you can’t.”

Dante remembers something. Another demon, with black veins, who couldn’t talk. Rendered speechless.

That urges him to part his lips, to attempt to make any noise whatsoever.

“Ca…”

“Huh?” Nero leans in, Dante feels the couch cushion indent as Nero leans forward.

“Can’t… shut me up…” Dante hissed, his voice sounds like he’d been gargling gravel though. It’s harsh, and rough, it comes out like a whisper.

“Yeah.” Nero says with a laugh. “Yeah, nobody can do that.”

Nero’s hand land on Dante’s chest. Dante’s hands move so slowly it’s like an agony. Dante is used to being fast, and fast acting, but he can’t see much of anything. So his arm slowly raises and catches Nero’s palm. He holds it. Squeezes on it. Clinging for life. Dante feels like he can’t get a grip despite it. His grasp is so weak. So he just lays his hand on top. He feels Nero’s Devil Bringer, and idly touches the scales on his hand.

He opens his eyes, and sees that faint blue glow of the Devil Bringer. He sees the outline of Nero’s face, pale white hair, some blurry blue color of his shirt.

“You want something to drink?” Nero asked.

“… Whiskey?” Dante mused.

“How about water?” Nero asked.

“… With whiskey?”

Nero scoffed. Dante couldn’t see it, but he probably rolled his eyes at him, so Dante just smiled.

“All right. Let me get you some water. Stay put.”

Dante did as told. His brain didn’t come up with a smarmy thing to say fast enough. He listened to Nero walk towards the kitchen in the back of Devil May Cry, across from the bathroom. He hears the sound of a glass cup being rinsed and filled, and then Nero is at his side again.

“Sit up.”

Dante feels compelled to obey him. His head hurts terribly but he sits up and feels that painful rush of his blood finally flowing in him.

“Careful.” Nero tells him, and reaches out towards him, grabbing Dante’s arm to help him sit upright. Dante can somewhat tell which way is up and down. He feels his hands, but his feet, not so much. He tries to grab the glass, but Nero holds it for him.

“Here. I’ll hold it. You drink.”

Somehow, clumsily, Nero got a straw into Dante’s mouth, and it was easier to drink it that way. He drank the whole glass down, thankfully, his throat felt bone dry, and he gasped softly from that.

“Two days…?” Dante’s words do come out slow and strange, and he thinks long and hard before even saying them.

“Yeah. You were out cold.” The couch indented, and Dante felt himself slump a little towards the right side, where Nero sat.

“There’s no sign of that demon anymore. I guess we got rid of it.” Nero said. “… I wanted to ask, ever since we fought it… did you… know it?”

“Know what?”

“The demon?”

“What? No… never seen em.”

“You spoke to it like you knew them.”

Dante shook his head. “Nope.” Dante shrugged. “Just recognized them.”

Nero wanted to press the matter, he thought about what Trish said.

_Unusually honest. Obedient to a fault._

He didn’t like the thought of taking advantage of Dante in a position like this. Nero decided the best thing would be to approach things carefully.

“Trish said it will be hard for you to lie. Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“Extremely.” Dante shifted back in the cushions.

“If I ever ask you something you don’t want to answer, you can tell me ‘I don’t feel comfortable answering.’ Okay?”

“Okay.”

“How did you recognize that demon?”

“I met one like it.”

Nero recalled that lots of demons looked familiar, but ones that could talk usually looked unique in their own ways, he wondered if maybe for demons, being able to have high intelligence, meant being able to have that originality.

“You were nice to it. Why?”

“Nice to it?” Dante seemed amused by the phrasing.

“You told it… that it would be safe. When you exorcized it. Why? I thought you hated demons.”

Dante let out a low sigh, and dropped his head down on the cushions of the couch. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, even without vision, he seemed to avoid looking Nero in the eyes.

“I do.”

“So why spare it? Why didn’t we kill it? It murdered people.”

“It’s just doing its job.”

“To kill people?” Nero huffed.

Dante winced a little bit, he folded his arms and sighed. “Yeah. What of it?”

“I thought you cared about people.”

“Well not _all_ of them!” Dante huffed. “And I don’t hate _all_ of the demons.” He struggled for a moment, before suddenly saying. “I don’t hate Trish.”

After a moment, in a low voice, he added. “I don’t hate you.”

“Do you hate yourself?” Nero asked.

Dante stared. He didn’t say anything.

Nero sighed. “You don’t have to answer that.” He said, and Dante looked a bit relieved, and he sighed as well. He supposed even he hated himself at times, for what he was, knowing he was a demon came as a surprise, and without Dante… well, who knows where he’d be?

“So what made that demon special?” Nero asked.

“… They told me.” Dante said. “They were not my enemy.”

“So? They could’ve been tricking you. And they injected you with this shit – they were trying to get close to you! —”

“They were afraid!” Dante snapped suddenly, this topic, whether sensitive before or not, seemed to anger him, and his snarl stunned Nero into silence for a second. Dante shifted in the couch cushions and turned his head away.

“You can’t run on anger, Nero. You’re gonna run empty… You need to empathize.”

Nero couldn’t help it, despite that deep sense of genuine care Dante had in his voice, he had to respond with disbelief.

“Empathize? With the demons?”

“They are living too.” Dante hissed. “They have hearts, and minds, and fears. That demon that day. He had a reason to be afraid. To live in fear. His master was someone terrible—he—”

Dante struggled to get the words out. He didn’t want to say it.

“You don’t have to tell me—”

“His name is Mundus.” Dante interrupted Nero. “He is a monster. The King of Demons. He enslaved and hurt and tortured them, Nero. That demon the other day… that was one of his servants. That is what they were afraid of. That is their master.”

“Mundus…?” Nero murmured.

Dante nodded solemnly.

“I know him.” Nero said. “He’s mentioned… in the Order. The demon that Sparda fought.”

“That would be the one.”

“I thought Sparda sealed him away?”

“He did.” Dante replied. “For a long time he was, until he became strong enough to put demons in submission again… and he did.”

“What happened then?”

“I put him away.”

Nero thought back on that day. “So that’s why you told that demon that they wouldn’t be with their master again.”

“… That’s why I exorcized it. So it couldn’t. It would be safe.”

“Why? Why is that one more important than the others?” Nero huffed.

“Demons are straightforward.” Dante huffed. “If they want to kill me, they’ll try and kill me. That one… it wanted a home. It wanted to be safe. It wanted to be free.”

Nero said nothing to that.

“It can’t help that it was born. It can’t help that it was a slave to Mundus. That everyone around it would rather die with Mundus than betray him. What mattered was getting it out of the situation of hurting and killing humans. If it wanted to die… I would gladly kill it. But if it did, it wouldn’t have struggled to live. Just because it didn’t fall in line for Mundus, it will be outcasted by his peers. It did wrong, it killed, but that doesn’t mean it deserved death. —”

“So it’s like me?” Nero suddenly asked. “… Like the people in the Order. Like Sanctus, and his cult.”

Dante blinked. He had not thought about the comparison. Yet he could imagine it. One person, defiant of the group, shunned, criminalized, and seeking a new home.

“… Yeah. It’s like you.”

Dante sighed.

Nero looked Dante over, putting his hand on Dante’s own. Dante grabbed, feeling the Devil Bringer, and touching along the scales. For a moment, it is quiet, just them, and the feeling of Dante’s thumb over the scales of his hand.

Nero sighed. The way he sniffed, it made Dante wonder if he was crying, but he doubted it.

“… I have all this anger.” Nero said after a long pause. “All this anger… and I don’t know where to put it.”

“Anger… from the Order, from my family, from the Savior, from Fortuna. I think of that little kid… that little boy I had… the one who died all alone – and I… that anger just boils over inside me.” He stumbled out. “I always thought… I could put it into fighting demons. Into protecting my family… and when you said… that I can’t run on anger, I just don’t understand. How can I empathize with them?”

“You can’t live like that.” Dante whispered. “It will destroy you. Even if you think it has made you strong – it is stronger than you, and you will destroy yourself. That anger is a fire you can’t put out. Too much… it will consume you. And then finally it will burn out, and you will have nothing.”

The bone deep honesty that Dante has in his voice makes it impossible for Nero to believe Dante is joking. He speaks with seriousness he has not yet been familiar with. This is the Dante he is not used to. The Dante who gives him these lessons.

“… No matter what, you find a reason. A reason to keep going. You empathize with the people around you. You don’t need a reason to stop something – to stop a war, to stop a criminal, to stop a demon – you need a reason to start. A reason to start a home, start a family, start living – you have to learn to care… you have to. Even if it’s just one thing…”

A long and silent pause.

“Even if it’s the only thing.”

Silence fills the office, and Dante holds tight to Nero’s hand, and Nero grips him back just as strongly. He feels Dante settle against him, probably drifting off to sleep. Nero looked down at him, thinking over and over of what Dante said.

“… What is your only thing?” Nero asked softly.

Dante opened his eyes, like he had been jolted awake. A blink. Two blinks.

He lets go of Nero’s hand.

“I don’t feel comfortable answering.” Dante suddenly murmured.

Nero watched Dante tuck himself under the blankets clumsily in his blind state, and Nero smiled. Nero held Dante’s head in his lap, carefully stroking his cheek, and brushing the hair away from his face. He did not ask anything else. He only held Dante’s head, and smiled.

Dante felt an unmistakable drop of a tear hit his face.

He pretended to sleep through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, it's been a struggle to write lately, but this fic has been in the back of my mind. My apologies if the editing is sloppy, I haven't been able to skim it properly, I will get to it at another point in time, please bear with me.


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